


two loves have i

by wreckingtomlinson (karasunonolibero)



Series: disaster harry [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disaster Harry, Humor, M/M, gratuitous coolatta drinking (dunks pls sponsor), it's not a twins fic harry's just an idiot, the one you know and love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunonolibero/pseuds/wreckingtomlinson
Summary: “So, hang on a minute.” Niall puts the pen down. “You’re really trying to tell me that you think two people who look alike moving into the same building around the same time makes more sense than Louis cutting his hair and changing his clothes in the four days since you last saw him?”~or, Harry is convinced the new guy who's just moved into his apartment complex is not only hot, but has an equally hot doppelgänger.





	two loves have i

**Author's Note:**

> disaster harry is back and more chaotic than ever! the boston larries gc (namely, [bella](http://dystopianharry.tumblr.com)) had some confusion over potential doppelgängers so naturally, i had to make it into a fic. 
> 
> in keeping with the rat pack/disaster theme, the title is from [two loves have i](https://youtu.be/YOfRQJa7kT4) by dean martin. enjoy!

When Harry gets off the train with a blue raspberry Coolatta in hand and sees a moving van in front of his apartment, his first thought is the sudden reminder that he needs to order a new office chair.

Niall had so helpfully ruined the last one by bringing it to beach day at the end of the summer, which had only resulted in getting so much sand stuck in the wheels that they stopped turning. The reason Harry remembers this now, in the first week of January, is because he sees a brown-haired someone sitting outside on the sidewalk in a similar office chair, and he wonders if they’re moving in or out. Then someone else comes along, bickers with the seated person for a while, and then pushes the chair, person and all, into the lobby.

So they’re moving in, then. Harry wonders if they’re moving into the empty studio on the ground floor or the two-bed next door to him. Part of him hopes they’re moving into the ground-floor apartment. He’s gotten used to the peace and quiet, as well as the lack of judgement for his proclivity to belt ABBA songs in the middle of the day.

Harry lets himself into the vestibule and digs around in his pocket for his keys when suddenly, there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looks up to see—oh, holy shit.

Right in front of him, holding the front door open, is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He’s got a week-old scruff and messy hair that curls over his ears, and he’s wearing a plaid flannel and grey beanie. He almost looks a little skater punk, like he belongs in a band, or something. And his eyes, Jesus Christ, Harry doesn’t think there’s even a _word_ for how pretty and blue they are.

“Hey,” the man says, waving a hand in front of Harry’s face.

Harry snaps the fuck out of it. “Hi!” he says with a little too much enthusiasm. “Are you moving in?”

“Working on it.” The man shrugs a bit. “If _someone_ would stop trying to ruin my fun, _Liam._ ” The last bit is directed at the moving van parked outside.

“You’re not helping, Tommo!” yells back a voice from inside the van.

“I’ll just, uh, leave you to it, then.” Harry sticks his hand up in an awkward wave and then bolts up the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment. Most days he wishes the place had an elevator, but today he’s just glad he doesn’t have to stand in the lobby even longer and slowly lose his mind from how gorgeous the newest addition to the apartment building is.

When he opens the door to his apartment, he can hear _Queer_ _Eye_ playing on the living room TV, which means his roommate’s home. “Niall,” he whines, kicking his boots off by the door. “There’s a Greek god moving into our building and he’s probably going to kill me.”

Niall doesn’t answer, but the TV volume gets louder, which means Niall’s just flat-out ignoring him. Harry needs a better roommate.

“I _said_ ,” Harry repeats, stomping into the living room with his arms crossed to glare at his chair-wrecking excuse of a friend, “there’s a—”

“Oh, I heard you the first time,” Niall assures him from where he’s lounging on the couch, sock feet propped up on a pillow as he munches on Doritos.

Harry grabs the bag of chips. “One, these are mine. I bought them yesterday. And two, the audacity of eating these while Antoni is literally right in front of you teaching you how to make grilled cauliflower.”

“Excuse you, I cook.”

“Taking chicken out of the freezer and putting it directly in the oven with no seasoning doesn’t count as cooking.”

“I season my chicken!”

“With _what_?”

“Shut up and drink your Coolatta. Why do you even have a Coolatta? It’s fucking January.”

“Coolattas have no season.” Harry takes a long, obnoxious slurp just to annoy Niall.

“Do you even know which apartment this Greek god is moving into?”

“No,” Harry admits after a pause. “That didn’t exactly come up when we met.”

“Did other things come up?”

Harry doesn’t dignify that with an answer, instead flouncing away to shut himself in his room and try to mentally convince the universe to side with him, just this once.

~

The next afternoon, as he’s returning from yoga, he sees the Greek god again. The one his friend had referred to as Tommo. He’s by the mailboxes, looking adorably confused. What a perfect opening to start a conversation.

But before Harry can start a conversation, Tommo looks up and grins at him. “Hey, Curly.”

“Harry, actually,” Harry says. “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to actually meet you, Harry.” When he smiles his eyes crinkle up at the corners. And why is he standing so damn _close_? “I’m Louis. So, what’s the deal with these mailboxes?“

“What do you mean?”

“They’re all locked.”

“You should have gotten a mailbox key when you moved in. Like this one.” Harry digs his own keyring out of his pocket, showing Louis the three keys attached to it—the key to get into the building, the key for his individual apartment, and the much smaller key for the mailbox.

“Oh.” Louis furrows his brow. “I don’t know if I got that one.”

“Oh,” Harry says eloquently, and then they both go quiet for a few moments.

“So, this key…” Louis starts.

“Oh! Um, I’d text the landlord or something,” Harry suggests. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. Unless you stole my mailbox key?” Louis teases him, and really, this is too much for Harry to handle when he’s still got a rolled-up yoga mat under his arm.

“I’d never!”

“Just teasing you.” Louis laughs. “I’ll figure it out. See you around.”

“Bye!” Harry takes that as his out, dashing up the stairs and hoping to god Niall is home so he can complain.

“I know his name!” he announces as he enters the apartment.

“Who?” Niall’s voice comes floating from the kitchen, but there’s no smell of food. Harry bets he’s making unseasoned chicken again.

“The Greek god has a name!”

“What is it?”

“His name’s Louis,” Harry tells him, walking into the kitchen to find Niall—eating Cheerios. “Did you just get up?”

“I’ve been up for hours. Just didn’t feel like getting out of bed,” Niall says, crunching on a Cheerio. “So tell me everything.”

Harry relays the tale of Louis’ missing mailbox key, which inexplicably makes Niall light the fuck up. “So now you know where he lives!”

“Um, actually…I sort of don’t.”

“You helped him with his mailbox and yet you _still_ don’t know which apartment he’s in?”

“There was a lot going on, Niall!” Harry defends himself.

“There really wasn’t,” Niall points out with a deep sigh. “Not even the Fab Five could help you now.”

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.”

“But I pay rent.”

“But you eat my food.”

“But I _pay_ _rent_.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry argues, just to be contrarian, before stomping back to his room to pout in peace. Niall may pay rent, but he doesn’t need to be this rude.

~

Harry doesn’t see Louis for the next four days, and contrary to Niall’s insistence, Harry is definitely _not_ pining, thank you very much. He isn’t living in some slow burn fanfiction.

Two days into this terrible drought, Harry remembers that the first time he saw Louis, he was drinking a blue raspberry Coolatta. For the next two days, he makes sure to stop by Dunkin Donuts and pick one up, as though getting off the train with one in hand will somehow summon Louis from whichever new apartment he’s moved into.

It’s just his luck, then, that the one day Harry forgets his DD Perks card and can’t get a Coolatta is the day he sees Louis again. Except—wait, it’s not Louis.

He looks like Louis, has blue eyes and a similar build, but this person has shorter hair and no scruff, and is wearing a blazer over a t-shirt. Still kind of skater punk, but like. Business skater punk.

“Hi,” Business Skater Punk says to him with a smile.

Harry makes a weak gurgling sound in response.

Business Skater Punk blinks. “Okay then. See you around.” And then he steps outside, leaving Harry slackjawed in the lobby.

How is he supposed to survive with not one, but two Greek gods in this building? What did he ever do to deserve this? If anyone deserves it, it’s Niall for ruining a perfectly good desk chair.

“Niall!” he bellows as he throws the door open. “There’s another Greek god in the apartment and I’m really, truly going to die.”

Niall looks up from where he’s sitting on the living room floor, working on the crossword puzzle from last week’s issue of _People_. “Tell me more,” he drones, sounding like that’s the last thing he wants Harry to do.

Harry doesn’t give a shit. He needs Niall to understand his suffering. “He said hi to me and I gurgled.”

Niall blinks twice, then bursts out cackling. “You fucking what?”

“I gurgled!”

Niall clutches his stomach and laughs harder. “You’re a fucking disaster.”

“Help me! He literally looks _just_ like Louis except with shorter hair and he dresses different.”

Niall’s laughter slows down and he gives Harry a strange look. “Wait, what?”

“I’m telling you Louis has a doppelganger who lives in this very building and who is just as hot!”

“Are you sure Louis didn’t just, you know, shave and change his clothes?”

“I’m _pretty_ sure.”

“Have you seen them both in the same room together at the same time?”

“No, but Business Skater Punk—”

“Who?”

“The doppelganger! There were two empty apartments, right? So maybe Louis moved into one and Business Skater Punk moved into the other!”

“So, hang on a minute.” Niall puts the pen down. “You’re really trying to tell me that you think two people who look alike moving into the same building around the same time makes more sense than Louis cutting his hair and changing his clothes in the four days since you last saw him?”

Well, when Niall puts it like that, Harry sounds fucking nuts. But he refuses to let Niall think he’s right, so he shuts his mouth and stomps into the kitchen in search of fruit to snack on.

Niall follows him, still carrying the magazine. “Why do you call this one Business Skater Punk, anyway?”

“Louis kind of looks like a skater punk. This one also looked skater punk, but he had a blazer on over a t-shirt so it’s like, business skater punk.”

Niall rips out the crossword puzzle page, crumples it into a ball, and throws it at the back of Harry’s head. “Get a grip. Want pizza? My treat.”

Harry can’t say no to free pizza, so he forgives the paper-throwing for now, but he still feels like there’s going to be a catch later on. He’s just got no idea what said catch is going to be.

The first thing that strikes him as odd is fifteen minutes later, when Niall announces that the pizza has arrived and dashes downstairs to let the delivery guy up. Pizza usually takes at least forty minutes to arrive. But he’s comfortable in the nest of blankets he’s made and always hates being made to get up in the middle of _Wheel of Fortune_.

The second weird thing is that Harry realizes, after two puzzle rounds, Niall still isn’t back yet. If Domino’s sent that guy Shawn over _again_ , Niall won’t be back for hours.

The third strange thing that Harry registers, as Pat Sajak leads some contestant named Zayn over to the tiny wheel for the bonus round, is that he hears far too many people walking down the hall toward his apartment door.

The door opens to reveal Niall, Shawn the pizza delivery guy, and—Business Skater Punk.

Fuck Harry’s life, honestly.

“Hey, I found a friend!” Niall chirps, flopping on the sofa while Shawn brings the pizza box inside.

“I can see that,” Harry mumbles. “Hi.”

“He speaks!” Business Skater Punk grins at him. “Hi again.”

“Ironing board,” Shawn says out of nowhere, gaze fixed on the TV screen. “The answer is ironing board.”

The answer is not ironing board, much to Shawn’s—and Zayn’s—disappointment. Harry is still too thrown off by the sudden appearance of Business Skater Punk _in his apartment_ to say much.

“Are you going to gurgle again?” Business Skater Punk asks, kicking off his shoes—black Vans, of course—and making himself right at home on the couch, just inches from where Harry’s got his feet propped up.

“No,” Harry says with a pout, reaching for a slice of pizza. “Do you, um, want some?”

“Sure!” He smiles, taking a slice himself. “If you like pizza as much as I do, we’re gonna get along real well.”

“Right, about that. What’d you say your name was again?” Niall asks, his tone suspiciously pointed.

“Louis.”

“Holy shit,” Harry says eloquently. “What are the fucking chances?” So not only does Louis have a doppelganger who lives in this building, but they both have the same name, too? Harry’s truly living in some kind of alternate universe.

“Chances of what?” Second Louis asks.

“You guys even have the same _name_?” Harry sputters out.

“Same name as who?”

“Wait, have you met him yet? There’s this other guy who lives in the building who looks just like you. It’s so weird. And I guess you’re both named Louis.”

Second Louis and Niall both stare at Harry like he just declared The Wanted as the best band of all time. “There’s another person named Louis who lives in the building?” Second Louis asks. “Where?”

“The other empty apartment. So like, you moved into one, he moved into the other.”

“I live on the first floor.”

“So then other Louis lives…next door.” Harry lights up. “Let’s go see if he’s in! You can meet each other?”

Niall’s pressed his lips together so tightly his mouth has all but disappeared. “You think that’s a good idea, Harry?”

“Why not? It’s a great idea!”

“ _Harry_.” Niall puts a hand on his shoulder. “The goddamn realtor’s lockbox is still on the door handle.”

“And what about it?”

“No one’s moved in. Don’t you think you would have noticed someone lugging furniture and shit down the hall?”

“They could have moved in while I’ve been at yoga.”

“No one moves apartments in two hours.”

“So…who’s the other Louis?” Harry looks at Second Louis, who seems to have caught on already.

“Oh my god, you thought I was two different people,” Louis mumbles to nobody in particular.

“It’s a logical assumption!” Harry scrunches up his nose, feeling his cheeks heat up. “The first time I saw you you were all scruffy and had long hair and you were wearing all this plaid, and this time your hair was all…” He waves a hand. “Cinnamon roll-y.”

“Harry, I shaved and got a haircut and changed my clothes. Do you really just identify people by their hair and their shirt?”

“I tried to fucking tell him,” Niall says with a shake of his head. “Wouldn’t listen.”

Louis’ shaking his head too, but instead of looking like a disappointed dad, he just looks amused. “You really thought me having a doppelganger with the same name made more sense than me shaving and changing my clothes?”

Harry snatches up the blanket and hides under it. “We’re not going to talk about it,” he says to his knees.

Then the corner of the blanket is being lifted before he can yank it back, and Louis’ face appears. “Want to not talk about it over dinner tomorrow night?”

“Dinner?” Harry echoes. “Like, you and me?”

“Dinner, you and me,” Louis confirms. “Is Dermot’s around the corner any good?”

“Dermot’s is good. You know something? I think one of the waiters there also works at Corden’s a few blocks over.”

~

He finds out, the next night at dinner, that the waiter he thought worked at two different restaurants has an identical twin.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you for reading! if you liked it, you can come visit me on [tumblr](http://humhalleloujah.tumblr.com), and if you really liked it, please consider reblogging the [fic post](https://humhalleloujah.tumblr.com/post/181731423831/two) x


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